


twenty-three minutes until departure

by riceballs



Series: the great 2017 rewrite [3]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Illness, M/M, the only "explicit" relationship is mark x jb, the rest are only implied and can be seen as platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riceballs/pseuds/riceballs
Summary: “If someone were to ask you on your death bed what it was like to live here on earth, perhaps the only honest answer would be, ‘I don’t know, I passed through it once but I've never really beenthere’.”





	twenty-three minutes until departure

**Author's Note:**

> i'm slowly editing, updating, and reposting some old fics of mine from 2014-2015. This was originally written for hakkais_shadow@lj for [got2015](https://got2015.livejournal.com).
> 
> Based on [this](http://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/post/73524850764/onism). Summary and small portion of text (italicized) in story quoted from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IrBlmpqh8T0). the 23 in the title refers to mark's age at the time i wrote this, and for story purposes i've decided to keep it at that.

**Flight itinerary for TUAN, MARK  
**

**From: SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA (ICN)**

 

There was a Korean drama he watched once. It was one of those stereotypical bad boy-good girl love story, where the boy starts out hating the world because of a dark past, until he meets the girl, whose innocence and beauty forever changes his life. Yugyeom scoffed when he heard that Mark watched it, calling it an overrated love story, but Mark had found it romantic.

 

Jaebum reminds him of that boy.

 

He’s dangerous, troubled, and harsh. He has multiple piercings and tattoos, both visible and hidden, most of them indicating his various associations to the darker side of Seoul. Everyone around them warns Mark about how Jaebum is a street hustler, most likely working for one of South Korea’s underground gangs. _You have no business talking to someone like that_ , they tell him _. It’s better to just avoid contact._

 

But Mark just can’t help himself.

 

Jaebum is dangerous. He has a troubled background, and speaks with a harsh attitude. Yet Jaebum still talks to Mark. He stays late into the night with the other as Mark closes up shop, then walks him back to his apartment. Little by little, Mark learns more about Jaebum, delves deeper past the tough persona Jaebum puts as a front. He learns how Jaebum only works as a drug dealer to help support him and a _dongsaeng_ of his, a little girl he rescued from being recruited into a rival gang and has since then taken care of. He discovers how Jaebum hates this life and wants out, but a tattoo on his back seals his life away to the law-breaking side of society, with no chance of pursuing his true dreams, which Mark finds out to be dance.

 

Sometimes they explore the city of Seoul at night, Jaebum showing him all the secrets and hidden goodies the metropolis has to offer, but Mark hardly notices any of it, his eyes caught onto Jaebum instead. At night, under the flickering streetlamps, Jaebum looks younger, dark hair falling into his eyes, his sharp cheekbones more heavily defined by the shadows casted by the minimal light. Sometimes Jaebum shows off some b-boy moves, and its then when Mark can really see the built muscles and toned abs Jaebum has. Jaebum is undoubtedly handsome, and in any other world, he could probably pursue a career as a model or idol of some sort.

 

But it’s when Jaebum is laughing, his eyes crinkling up in happiness, lips grinning in what Mark believes is the most beautiful smile he has ever seen, that Mark really thinks he could fall in love with Jaebum.

 

If this were a drama, he supposes that he would be the poor schoolboy, working the graveyard shifts at a small snack shop, enchanted by the mysterious and cool persona that Jaebum possessed. They would probably start off hating each other, only to slowly fall in love as they spend time together, and by the second to last episode, Mark would probably confess with an expectation of being rejected, only for Jaebum to pull him close and admit he feels the same, cuing sparkles and hearts and romantic OSTs. He tells all this to Jaebum one day.

 

The Korean just scoffs at Mark. “So which one of us is going to die by a mysterious disease in the end?”

 

 

 

**Transfer: BANGKOK, THAILAND (BKK)**

 

His first thought is that it’s probably really hot, even if he couldn’t feel it. His second is how he really needs water. But then Bambam is pulling on his hand, and everything else flies his mind as they weave between the chaos of _Chatuchak_ Market, the various food stall tents providing a bit of shelter from the unforgiving sun.

 

“Bambam, w-water…” Mark gasps, tugging on the other to slow down. Bambam merely laughs, but hands over the plastic water bottle in his hand, which Mark accepts gratefully.

 

“You’re not even sweating, and you’re already tired?” he teases, pulling Mark over to a stand selling a variety of vegetables Mark’s never even heard of. He watches as Bambam buys a bag of yet another ingredient, before bounding back over to Mark’s side.

 

“That should be the last thing that your mom wants, right?” he looks down at the grocery list in his hand, his eyes squinting at the items listed. Bambam nods, but grabs at Mark’s arm pleadingly.

 

“Let’s stay out a little bit longer,” he begs, tugging at Marks arm. “There’s so much to do in Thailand during the midday rush! Can we go check out the snack shop down the road? They’re serving _mieng kham_ today!”

 

The offer sounds enticing. Mark knows it hot, as he watches sweat beads dropping down Bambam’s face, and even if he can’t feel the blazing sun, he can see it from the corner of his eye, beating down on them all. Yet all that goes away as soon as Bambam holds his hand, and smiles brightly at him, and in that moment all Mark wants to do is forget everything else and just wander the streets, taking in the bright colors and vibrant culture of Thailand.

 

From the moment he landed in Bangkok, Bambam has never left his side. The Thai male has more energy each given day than Mark has had his whole life combined, and he finds himself out of breath more often then not when following the younger around. And yet, Mark wouldn’t dare trade Bambam for another experience in Thailand. Somewhere between hopping on the back of a _songthaew_ streetcar to darting between traffic in a race to get to school, the young Thai male had earned a place in Mark’s heart. Bambam was full of fun and adventure, his vibrant eyes and shining smile never leaving his face as he pulled Mark with him all over the city. From trying out new and foreign street snacks to wandering in and out of small gift shops full of small trinkets; even when they would get reprimanded for arriving late to classes; every moment the two spent out and about only drew them closer together, and Mark really didn’t want to say no to that idea.

 

They exist the street, and the full blast of the current heat wave hits them, dragging Mark out of his reverie. He blinks. Somewhere in his mind he can hear his mother nagging at him, telling him not to stay out in the sun, since every minute he stayed out was only more dangerous to him.

 

“Sorry Bambam,” Mark smiles apologetically at the younger. “We should probably head back.” Bambam pouts, but nods understandingly.

 

“Race you then?” he suggests, raising his eyebrows. Mark laughs.

 

“Sure. Why not.”

 

 

 

**Transfer: HONG KONG, HONG KONG SAR (HKG)**

 

Mark meets Jackson on the one-hour flight between Taipei and Hong Kong.

 

It actually goes like this. He’s seated next to a frantic mom, who keeps peering over the back of rows over at her crying seven year old son, and takes pity on her, offering to trade places with him so the two can be together.

 

Five minutes later, Mark wonders if that was such a good idea.

 

He hadn’t even buckled his seatbelt before the boisterous male besides him introduced himself to be Jackson Wang, _Hong Kong fencing extraordinaire!,_ and continued blabbering on in what seemed to be a giant telling of his whole life story. In the hour long flight, Mark can almost tell you everything about Jackson, from the time he fell off a balance beam and nearly cracked his head open, to his first fencing tournament where he beat his opponent ( _twenty to one!_ Jackson boasted proudly), or even his slight foray into the music scene until his father found out and took away his mixing table.

 

It’s overwhelming at first, having a complete stranger treat you like his best friend, but somewhere around twenty minutes into the flight, Mark finds himself warming up to Jackson, finding an interest in this unconventional way of interacting with your seatmate on an airplane. Jackson is friendly and has an approachable aura, a complete 180 from Mark’s own introverted nature. And yet there’s something about Jackson’s personality that leads Mark to feel comfortable around him, feel as if Jackson were an old buddy of his and that they were just two good friends doing a routine catch up on the others life. He even ends up sharing tidbits about his own life, which Jackson listens to with great interest, laughing at the funny anecdotes and looking solemnly through his deeper ones.

 

The hour goes by, much too quickly for Mark’s liking, as the two exit the plane together, passing the mother with her still crying child. Mark had his own bag on him, but follows Jackson to the luggage carousel, helping the younger locate his fencing gear and suitcase.

 

“How long are you here for? Wanna hang out? I can show you around Hong Kong.” Jackson is looking expectantly at him, and Mark wants to say yes. Hong Kong is a beautiful city, full of lively action and organized chaos. It’s easy to get lost within the vivacious lifestyle of native Hong Kongers, and doing it all with someone by your side makes it so much more fun.

 

Jackson still looks like an eager puppy, and the excitement he has in possibly showing Mark around lights a spark in his heart. He can see it now. From _Tseun Wan_ to _Kowloon Bay_ , the two would take in everything Hong Kong offered them. Jackson would bring him to the famous _Tung Choi Street_ and make him try on all the touristy hats and bags they sold, before trying out the ’19 Hong Kong dishes you have to try before you die’ (which probably doesn’t hold a candle to Taiwanese snacks, but maybe Mark’s just biased). With Jackson’s arm around his shoulder, pressing Mark against his muscular body, he can see himself spending carefree days by Jackson’s side, listening to the younger chatter on endlessly (but not hearing a word coming out of that handsome face).

 

But reality strikes, and Mark knows he has a connecting flight to catch in twenty-three minutes. So he politely declines. Jackson pouts disappointedly, but grabs Mark’s old ticket, pulling a pen out and scribbling down a list of numbers.

 

“If you’re ever in Hong Kong again, give me a shout out!” He hands the ticket back to him. “If I’m around, we’ll definitely hit up that dim sum place that time, alright?” He smiles widely at Mark, who returns it with a weak grin.

 

“Sure.” It’s a lie. Mark knows he won’t be back.

 

 

 

**Transfer: ~~TOKYO, JAPAN (HND)~~ [CANCELLATION]**

 

Jinyoung is a fresh change.

 

It starts as merely a conversation on an online forum, both having interest in the same kpop band. What went from arguing whether JB or Jr. was hotter soon turned into discussions over Murakami works or indie films that Jinyoung would recommend and Mark would try. Jinyoung was a third year student at Tokyo University. He was highly sophisticated and exceedingly intellectual, but had a kind heart and an eager to share his passions with others. Their conversations were light-hearted and easy, even when Jinyoung would burst into a rant over a surrealistic piece he saw or a “poor attempt at a picaresque prose”, much to Mark’s amusement and confusion.

 

Then Jinyoung invites him to come to Tokyo, to spend a week with him in the busy metropolis. And Mark wishes he could, wishes he could go and visit yet another city, meet yet another person, live out yet another fantasy, but in reality he _can’t_ because he doesn’t know what Jinyoung looks like or anything about his personality and _Yugyeom never sent anything_ -

 

 

[Yugyeom is at Haneda airport when he first hears the news. Jinyoung looks at him with concern as his eyes go up in panic, fingers typing furiously on his phone.

 

“What’s wrong Yugyeom-ie?”

 

“Sorry Jinyoung hyung, I know we’ve been planning this for a while, but I can’t stay any longer. I’m flying out to LA tonight. Remember that friend I told you about, the one with congenital analgesia? It’s gotten worse, and his parents want me to come visit one last time before-”]

 

 

Mark never meets Jinyoung.

 

 

 

**To: LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA (LAX)**

 

Youngjae never meets Mark.

 

He starts working at California Hospital Medical Center his third year of college, and only hears about the other male in passing.

 

The first time Youngjae ever sees Mark is when he’s assigned to clean out the elder’s room, to pack things away to be sent to his parents. Usually he’s in the children’s department, considering his specialty being pediatric care, but none of the other nurses wanted to do it. He supposes its reasonable, as most of them knew Mark personally, practically watched him grow up in the hospital. It’s hard not to get attached after being by someone’s side that long, and Youngjae can understand how painful it must be for them all.

 

He’s taking down a bulletin board, careful to keep all the pins intact, when he sees it first. It’s a set of four photos, lined up neatly next to one another. Each one featured a tall male with a shy smile next to someone else, each in a different location.

 

The first picture he recognizes the background as his homeland, Seoul, South Korea, while in the third he can put a name to one of the faces – a world famous fencer he saw on TV once, Hong Kong’s representative Jackson Wang. In the second photo, nothing recognizable pops out to him, only that it shows two boys standing next to each other in the middle of a marketplace. One is the tall male, his hair an ash gray color, the other, who at most reached his companions shoulder, had blond-white hair instead, accompanied by mischievous eyes.

 

But it’s the last picture that captures his attention the most. It’s from the hospital, the exact ward he’s standing in. The same male with the gray hair – though this time it’s a rose pink shade – was standing over another male in the hospital bed. They both sport wide smiles and cheesy peace signs, and a box of chocolate sitting on the bedridden males lap. Curiosity getting the better of him, Youngjae unpins that photo and turns it over.

 

_130904 – Yugyeom flew in from Korea to visit for my birthday!! Thanks for the chocolates bro, too bad doctors say I can’t eat them haha._

 

He hears someone shuffle in and glances up in shock, hastily dropping the picture. It’s the tall boy from the photos, now standing awkwardly in the doorway. Youngjae doesn’t want to be the one to have to tell him the previous resident of this ward – who Youngjae is by now positive was a friend of the deceased – has been long gone for almost a few weeks now, but the guy beats him to it, smiling softly.

 

“So someone beat me to cleaning Mark’s room, huh.” Youngjae glanced down, feeling embarrassed despite having been told to do so. The other gives him a reassuring glance however, stepping closer to the bed where Youngjae had everything laid out.

 

“Mark’s parents asked me to come over to pick it all up, since they’re still in the mourning period.” His eyes scan the room, lingering on the photo Youngjae had dropped in his surprise. Blushing, Youngjae turns away in fear of being reprimanded, but the boy doesn’t even look his way.

 

“Wow… it really has been a year since I visited last…” he sighs, picking up the photo with a faint smile, before finally acknowledging Youngjae. “I’m Yugyeom by the way. Mark and I were pen pals.”

 

“Oh, Korean!” Youngjae can’t help but blurt out. Yugyeom lets out a slight chuckle.

 

“Yes I am Korean if that’s what you’re referring too,” he answers, still in English. “Thanks by the way, for doing this,” he gestures over to the already filled boxes on the side of the bed. “I wasn’t so sure I could handle having to get all of Mark’s stuff by myself.”

 

“Its no problem,” Youngjae replies. He glanced over at the board still lying on the bed, and a box of letters addressed to Mark on the ground. “Were you… were you close…” he trails off, realizing how rude his question might sound. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask-“

 

“No, it’s fine.” Yugyeom cuts in, smiling again. “We only really started talking about… four years ago? Yeah, about four years ago, for my English assignment. But I really enjoyed talking to Mark, and we continued even afterwards. I sent him all these pictures actually,” he points at the board again. “They’re from the various places I’ve been too, since Mark never really got a chance to… you know… visit…” Yugyeom fell silent, his face suddenly turning dark. Youngjae bit his lip; he recognized the look. It happens a lot in his line of work.

 

“I recognize this one, Seoul right? You from there?” Youngjae said, changing the subject. Yugyeom nodded, his face brightening up.

 

“Born and raised. That’s my cousin next to me, Jaebum hyung. I used to work really late night shifts at a snack shop near a bar at _Shincheon_ , so sometimes he would walk me home afterwards after his own… job.” Yugyeom shifted uncomfortably, before pointing at the picture next to it. “That’s Bambam. I went to a summer exchange program at some international school in Thailand, and he was my host brother. And, well, the last one is-“

 

“You met _Jackson Wang_?” Youngjae gasped, eyes suddenly gone wide. Yugyeom giggled at his shock. “He’s really famous in Korea ‘cause of that episode of Running Man!”

 

“It’s actually funny. I wasn’t sitting there at first, but I changed seats with someone so they could be with family, and ended up next to him. He’s a really nice guy, though _really_ talkative. I wish I could have spent more time with him, but I had to catch another flight somewhere. A shame too, he kept going on about this amazing dim sum place at Central that he wanted to take me too, and it sounded really good.” Yugyeom chuckled, shaking his head as if reliving the memory.

 

“But yeah, everywhere I go, I always send a postcard or letter of some sort to Mark. He’s always been interested in traveling, but ‘cause of his… situation, he’s never really got a chance too.” Youngjae understood completely. Most people with congenital analgesia die early. The inability to feel any nerve-related sensations leave them powerless against even the smallest sicknesses or most minor of injuries, and there is a lot of damage that can be done to a person’s body without anyone noticing. Those who make it past their youth often live in fear that something might happen to them internally, beyond their control. It wasn’t as if Mark was unfit for the outside world, but it came with too many dangers that could possibly be life threatening to someone with CIP, someone who wouldn’t be able to feel the pain no matter how perilous the injury was, or how vulnerable the sickness left him.

 

Yugyeom looked around wistfully at the room. “Sometimes I wonder if that was really smart though… he never was able to even leave LA, and here I am, showing off all the countries I visit-“

 

“I’m sure it’s not like that at all!” Youngjae interjected. Yugyeom looked at him, surprised. “I mean, from what other nurses told me, Mark was always sharing your stories with everyone, and he always looked forward to getting new letters from you!” In reality, no one ever told him such a thing, but Yugyeom seemed to perk up at his words, so he bit his tongue. He picked up the boxes full of envelopes, rifling through them carefully.

 

“You know, I didn’t actually start traveling until after I wrote to Mark. I always had a lot of opportunities, considering I went to an international school in Seoul, but never felt a desire to do so.

 

Then I started talking to Mark, and he showed me how little my world actually was, and how much I was missing out by confining myself to Seoul. It’s kind of ironic, since his world is even smaller, but it really made me realize that I was taking my health for granted, pushing off all the adventurous things life can offer me with the excuse ‘I can do it later’.

 

Mark can’t use that excuse. I didn’t even understand congenital analgesia or CIP or whatever it’s called when he first told me he had it, but after he explained the whole thing, after I did my own reading about it… it’s not even because there’s no later for him, but he never have a chance to begin with. Because even if he wanted to, and even though his body is technically fit to do so, the risk is just too high, especially with all the possibilities of what could happen without him knowing it.

 

And it was just at that moment… knowing that his map of life was going to be so small, that he would have to live without ever fulfilling his dreams of exploring the unknown… I began signing up for all the UN visits my school offered, all the summer and winter programs to different countries. Been across Asia as part of an international cooperation campaign, and right now I’m looking into an internship at an agency that works in international diplomacy. I really owe it all to Mark, because he inspired me to embark on what has been so far the greatest adventure of my life, and I wanted to do the same for him.

 

And now he’s gone, and I can only hope that I… that I gave him a chance to see a little of the world outside. That he didn’t pass without feeling he got to know at least some of what’s out there, and got to see even a glimpse of the universe he wanted to see so much.”

 

“I’m sure you did.” Youngjae said quietly. There’s one box to the side full of travel books, another that had small souvenirs from across the globe, but he knows that the letters – which he had found placed neatly in the drawer by Mark’s bedside – and the bulletin board – located right where Mark could see it from his bed – those were what Mark treasured the most.

 

“There’s only so much he could have learned from just reading travel guides or watching travel shows. Sometimes even just living out the experience through someone else is enough, because it’s more real than anything else anyone could have giving him.” Youngjae hoped he sounded comforting enough. Yugyeom didn’t look as gloomy as before, instead smiling down at the intern with tearful eyes. He blinked twice and looked away, his fingers tracing the bulletin board with photos on it.

 

“It’s such a pity though,” Yugyeom sighed and shook his head. Pulling a Polaroid card from his pocket, he carefully pinned it onto the board, next to the hospital picture. Youngjae peeked over at it.

 

It had Yugyeom in it again, who stood there with his arm around another male. They’re at an airport, in front of a departure board. The list of locations had never seemed as endless as they did now, each place representing another door Youngjae closed to get to where he was now, another lighted word he could only wonder about, everything he’d ever fantasized about that never made it into his reality.

 

_It’s strange how little of the universe we actually get to see. Strange how many things we’ll never get to see before we die—and all because, as the arrow on the map helpfully points out,_ **_you are here_** _._

 

“Mark never did get to meet Jinyoung.”

 

 

 

 

 

**[Flight itinerary for KIM, YUGYEOM  
**

**From: SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA (ICN)**

**To: LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA (LAX)]**

**\+ extra. one minute until departure.**

“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.” –Oscar Wilde

**From: LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA (LAX)**

 

Youngjae never meets Mark, but Mark meets Youngjae.

 

Everyone keeps telling him he needs to stay awake, but sometimes Mark just feels _so tired_. It doesn’t make much sense to him, because the doctors are just going to give him anesthesia or something of the sort to make him doze off for his next tests anyways.

 

Looking around for something to keep his mind off his impending sleep, he looks out the window. In the room across from his, a group of new interns are introducing themselves.

 

There’s one with a wide smile and beautiful eyes. “Hello everyone! My name is Youngjae! Nice to meet you!” He bows low – Mark figures he must be an exchange student – and rights himself back up, the smile never leaving his face.

 

Mark can’t help but be captivated.

 

It’s not the same as Jaebum’s cat like grin, teeth flashing in the dark Seoul night. He doesn’t have mischievous eyes like Bambam, and from the way he’s fidgeting, he most likely isn’t as confident as Jackson is, nor has a body that could match the fencers, or is the tall and lean male he always pictured Jinyoung to be. But there’s something that sets Youngjae apart from everyone else.

 

Youngjae is real, a tangible person in front of Mark’s eyes. He’s not a 2D picture where Yugyeom has colored hair that Mark doesn’t remember him dyeing, or a three-page letter post stamped four days ago. Youngjae isn’t a figment in Mark’s mind created based on experiences scrawled down on paper and still images printed on glossy photos.

 

The night after his first examination, where he was officially diagnosed with CIP, his mom had crawled into his tiny bed and read to him. Mark doesn’t remember the name of the book at all, more concerned at the time over his mom’s puffy eyes and sporadic sniffles, but one thing stuck out to him about that night. As the story went on, his mother’s voice got stronger, her eyes fading back to normal, and even by the end she was giggling with Mark over one of the characters.

 

Whenever Mark was feeling sad over making his mother cry, or angry that his dad wouldn’t let him out to play, he would always return to his fairy tale books, whispering the words over and over to himself to make him feel better. It became a coping mechanism, especially as he grew older and came to understand the nature of his disorder. _Your nervous system is damaged. You can’t feel pain. Bad things could happen to your body without you knowing._ Sometimes it was just easier to ignore the words they said, create fantasy worlds to live in, where he was healthy and well and not under the constant watch of everyone around him, afraid of his every move. Whenever he needed to escape reality, he would fly to one of the lives he lived in his head, in different locations across the world with interesting people that he would meet.

 

But Mark’s not dumb. He can see his friends blinking away tears, and hear the worried whispers from doctors after each examination. His parents are in the hospital almost all the time now, and the increasing amount of visiting relatives he’s getting nowadays doesn’t go unnoticed. However, it wasn’t until after Yugyeom showed up two days ago that Mark was certain he’s dying.

 

Dying. It’s strange, knowing that soon, he’s not going to be in the world that he longed to escape from all the time anymore.

 

For two days straight, he can’t bring himself to conjure a story in his head. He tries hard to bring his mind to South Korea, or the streets of Bangkok or Hong Kong’s airport, or even Tokyo, a place he’s never really heard about yet. But it hurts more than it helps him, because he knows that they’re not real to him. They aren’t his to tell.

 

He’s never been to any of those places. He’s never explored their nightlife, or tried their foods. He’s never met any of the interesting people that he wishes he could.

 

(He has never fallen in love.)

 

But Youngjae isn’t from one of the cities he reads about in Yugyeom’s letters, nor is he a person that was in Yugyeom’s life at one point. He’s here and present in Mark’s own world, only a handful of steps away. Youngjae is real.

 

So he allows himself one more fantasy. This time, he’s not halfway across the world in a small snack shop, or running through the hot streets of Thailand. He hasn’t met someone famous mid flight, or been invited to Japan by a mysterious stranger he only conversed with online.

 

This time, he’s Mark, a patient at California Hospital Medical Center. He’s the rare case of congenital analgesia, unable to feel any pain except the one in his heart when he sees the pitying stares from his visitors, the sadness in his family’s eyes no matter how much they try to hide it, or the sympathetic faces of the doctors and nurses that tend to him. It’s ironic, how the only feeling he gets is the one that hurts the most.

 

But Youngjae is different. Youngjae smiles at him happily, not even the slightest bit of sadness eradicating from the intern. There is no pity or sympathy from the younger, only joy and laughter.

 

Mark can see it clearly happening. Youngjae coming in every morning with his breakfast meal, sitting there to make sure Mark is chewing on his food and not his tongue. It won’t be as tense as his caretaker now, but rather, the other boy would make it like sharing a conversation. Maybe he would tell him about a boy he met in the children’s ward who wouldn’t stop throwing cotton balls at him, or they could discuss the latest Taiwanese drama Mark was trying. After a few weeks, when he discovers Youngjae loves to sing (he looks like a singer in Mark’s eyes), Mark would probably spend a while coercing Youngjae to sing for him, and he has no doubt it would sound like an angel’s voice. He would show the intern the letters Yugyeom sent him, even the ones he hasn’t shared with his parents. Youngjae might share his insecurities with Mark, _what if I don’t turn out to be a good doctor, what if I mess up my first operation,_ and maybe – just maybe – Mark might find someone he can share his own personal worries, the deep thoughts that haunt him at night.

 

Youngjae’s eyes barely glance into his room before he’s shuffled off in another direction, but the two-second eye contact they have brings warmth to Mark’s heart. They are so innocent and full of life, making Mark’s own waning orbs flicker a little brighter, his staggering breath inhaling sharply as his heart pump just a little faster.

 

“Yugyeom would probably call this a really overrated love story,” Mark chuckles to himself, feeling his eyes closed. It really is, but so was his story with Jaebum, Bambam, Jackson and even Jinyoung. At least this one is a hell of a lot more possible, and Mark can’t help but want it more than anything else.

 

He wonders if Youngjae likes to travel.

 

**To:**

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i am not in any medical profession nor am i studying to become one so all mentions to congenital analgesia and any other medical terms were done through research only.


End file.
